


Boxed In

by Hundan



Series: One-Shots Season 3 [9]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Boxed In, F/M, NCIS - Freeform, One Shot, Stand Alone, TIVA - Freeform, season three, writing every episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24890257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hundan/pseuds/Hundan
Summary: Alternative head cannon for Boxed In 03x12. One Shot.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Series: One-Shots Season 3 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730302
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	Boxed In

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I’m not sure how I feel about this chapter but here it is. There was so much potential for different things with this episode but this is what Danni’s brain decided.   
> Love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!

** Boxed In **

He was titchy with her because they were stuck in this damn container together. And yeah it could have been worse, he could be stuck in here with McGoo. But then again maybe that would be better because he was a little annoyed that McGee and Palmer had been at her house for dinner and somehow, he’d missed out on an invite. He wasn’t that annoying, was he?

Then she’d fired that bullet in the container, against his explanation that it would most likely ricochet. He thought she was meant to be the ninja that knew about firearms? Clearly, she was lapsing in her judgement.

Then she’d ended up on top of him. He liked it, far too much but he was still cranky with her. Maybe he’d also got crankier with her because he’d liked it so much. If she liked it so much, how come she hadn’t invited him to her damn dinner?

She stayed on top of him far longer than necessary and he tried to wriggle a bit to move, because he was getting excited at the position. But that just made things worse because her body on top of him like that felt great. He had to hold his hands away from her because he really wanted to touch right now.

He was still cranky at her, for all his own reasons and she was trying to flirt. Like she liked this too. Why did she do that? String him along. Today, he was most definitely not enjoying it. Not this minute anyways because his ego was still punched in the gut that he’d been left out at dinner.

* * *

His mood had lightened only a little, because being trapped in this container with her was starting to become all sorts of sexual tension. He was still irked by the dinner thing, but he was getting over it. He got to touch her ass and that had been fantastic. He loved when he got to touch her in very inappropriate places, with a completely professional reason. Because it let him get away with it. She didn’t seem to mind. Otherwise she would have slapped at his greedy hands he was sure of it.

Then the situation got a little tense because Ziva was starting to look worried that they weren’t going to get out of this easily and the pressure of danger was almost starting to worry him too. If Ziva the badass ninja was worried, maybe he should be. He was trying to stay calm, for them both.

He joked that her life would have had more meaning if she’d slept with him. When she said perhaps she would of, he was finding it hard to breathe and that wasn’t because they were locked in an air restricted box. Then he’d pushed further, testing her. She’d said no, brushing it off. Maybe realising what she had admitted. Her no had most definitely been a lie.

They’d made it out of the day alive of course, it was somewhat of a team effort. He couldn’t help but milk his wound though because he did love the attention. Abby was the only one who played on his ploy though, simply because she was Abby and she was a caring soul. At least someone loved him. And of course, he loved the way she growled McGee. Tony had won this round with his probie.

Then all of sudden Ziva’s voice was behind him and she was apparently cooking him dinner. Had he heard that right? He was taken back and a little, scared? After spending all day with him he thought she was ready to actually shoot him and give him something to complain about for real if she had to spend a minute more with him.

He’d heard it in her voice though, the guilt. She’d felt bad that _everyone_ had been at hers for dinner and not him. He felt the hurt from earlier come back a bit when he found that information out. But, he couldn’t say no now she was actually inviting him.

* * *

She’d driven them to her place and it had been a quiet ride. That was weird for him because he was the kind of person who always felt the need to fill the silent void with words. But with her, he’s starting to realise that the quiet is peaceful. That was abnormal for him, he’s never found silence peaceful. Its why he likes his movies, they keep the constant noise going.

He wasn’t sure why she wasn’t talking though, he’d expected her to say _something_. Maybe she didn’t know what to say. He could feel a sense of guilt on her still and he wonders if she feels really bad for not inviting him now. If it’s the case, she’s not letting him know about it.

She opens the door to her apartment and it’s larger than he expected. The lounge was huge, big sofa, big piano. No television though. She had a large bookshelf and he noticed at least half of the books were Hebrew. It was very tidy, in order. Like her, sharp as a sword and nothing out of place.

“Make yourself at home” she said as she removed her coat and slung it on the back of a dining chair. She disappeared into the kitchen and he was left standing there, taking it all in. He’d noticed she was quick to fade into the kitchen away from him. Maybe she did feel guilty because she was clearly avoiding conversation. Interesting.

“You got any beers?” he asked. He felt like after today, he could use a drink or seven. He found his way into the kitchen where she’d gone and he could hear pots and utensils clanging as she got things out to make the dinner.

“No beer, but there is wine in the fridge” was her reply as he came around the bend to the kitchen. His eyes caught the sight of her bending over to get something and he couldn’t help but stare in appreciation at her ass. He smiled a little at the memory of earlier today when that derriere of hers was in his hands.

He walked over to the fridge and picked out one of the red wine bottles on the shelf. He noticed that her taste in wine was expensive. Interesting. He liked being in her home like this. He feels there was a lot he could learn about the secrets of Miss Ziva David. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t invited _him_. He was nosey, unlike the others.

“You know, you don’t have to cook, we could just order something” he suggested. As much as he looked forward to tasting her skills in the kitchen, they’d both had a long day. He watched her place the bowl in her hands down on the counter and her shoulders rose and fell, like a large sigh had slipped from her lips.

She turned to him then, her gaze meeting his. Her eyes held the guilt he’d been suspecting.

“Tony…” she began, taking a step closer to him. He held onto the wine bottle suddenly tight, because her posture told him she was about to get real with him. She didn’t do that often so far in their partnership. She’d let bits slip today, but it almost looked like she was going to cut the bullshit with him for once.

“I did not mean to leave you out last night, I thought you had plans as last week you mentioned going out with some girl on Friday night, so I figured you were busy. But when you did not mention it today and only talked about that silly fight show on television, I thought maybe I had got the days mixed up” she said, holding his gaze. She’d honestly thought he was busy.

He racks his brain to the memory and yes, he had mentioned going out with someone. But he was the only one who knows those plans were never legit. He has somewhat of a reputation to protect and letting his co-workers believe he’s going on a hot date was key to his persona. Maybe he should stop kidding himself. Lying about it had made him miss her dinner, that surely felt like a regret now.

But in saying that, now he was here for dinner just the two of them. That was definitely better. The fact that she had remembered such a small detail about his plans was interesting though. Maybe she paid more attention to him than he thought she did.

Ninja.

He waved a hand in front of him, dismissing her apology. It was not needed. He was over it now.

“No, it’s okay, all is forgiven” he said. Because it was. She hadn’t meant to upset him. She’d had a reason for not inviting him and it really had been a reason he’d created himself. He sent her a charming smile, easing the air between them. Suddenly it felt warmer in here. Because they didn’t get like this, it was all about the banter and the flirting.

His smile worked its magic and a smile was lifting on her face and a twinkle was growing in her eyes. He knew that twinkle well, it was the one her gaze held when they flirted. They were back in that safety zone.

“Glasses are in that cupboard, do not be shy on the pour. I could use a big glass after today” she said, turning back to the dinner. A soft chuckle slipped from her lips at that and when he smiled now, it wasn’t a charming smile, it was a real one. She had a way of relaxing him like that.

He busied himself on pouring two large wines while she got started on dinner. He couldn’t help but watch her and the way she handled the knife to chop up the vegetables. God, she was a pro with a knife, in any use. If he ever chopped vegetables that quick, he would absolutely chop a finger off.

He walked over and his shoulder brushed hers as he held out a glass to her. She turned her body sideways and her eyes caught his, hand touching around his on the glass.

“Toda” she smiled. He couldn’t help but noticed how their fingers touched and both of them lingered there for a moment. Eyes locked, standing far too close. He hadn’t even had a sip of wine and being in her territory like this away from work felt so dangerous.

“Bevakasha” he offered back and he watched the way her eyes softened at her native tongue slipping from his lips. He’d made a point to learn a few words, because he figured he could use them to charm his way with her. Right now, it looked as though it had worked.

She made a little hum noise in her throat, pleased with his Hebrew and brought her glass to her lips, sipping back some of the red liquid. He did the same with his glass, but unlike her he didn’t take his eyes off her. He watched the way her throat moved as she swallowed the sweet liquid and the sigh that slipped from her lips as the satisfaction of the alcohol relaxed her.

God, this was turning him on.

“Do you need some help with this?” he offered and she smiled some more as she focused on the dinner and placed her wine next to her on the bench.

“Honestly no, it will not take me long. You go rest your _bullet_ wound” she said, all but laughing at her own dig at him. He couldn’t help but laugh too, as much as he wanted to throw a comment back, he just felt too relaxed to even bother. Which was another strange thing for him. There had been a lot of that so far tonight.

He shrugged and pottered his way back into the lounge where he looked around. Normally, he’d plop his ass in front of the telly for the night and not move but Ziva didn’t have a television. Maybe that was a good thing. He walked around a little, looking at the books in her shelf. He smirked when he noticed she had a few handfuls of erotica novels. She was such a little minx. That reminds him, her friction burns.

“Hey, you never told me how you got those friction burns on your knees?” he called out. He heard her deep chuckle from the kitchen and he all but felt her eyes roll even though he couldn’t see her.

“Use your imagination Tony” she called back. Oh, she had no idea how much he was using his imagination on that thought. He’d spent half the bloody day thinking about it. And most of that time, he was thinking about how _he_ could give her such friction burns.

“So, you’re confirming Miss David that they are from what I think they are?” he called back. He felt her presence then and he turned to see her leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, wine in one hand and all but leaning provocatively against the wall with the other arm. Hip popped out. Definite minx.

“I am an adult Tony and I do like to have some fun when I am not working” she returned, raising an eyebrow at him. He hoped his jaw wasn’t hanging open too far. He thought for a moment she was just playing with him, but he could tell she was being serious.

“Please don’t tell me it was the autopsy gremlin” he said, closing his eyes at _that_ image. Her throaty laugh brought him out of his haze and when he opened his eyes to look at her, she was taking a slow sip of her wine.

“No Tony” she said, continuing to laugh like his suggestion had been outrageous. Suddenly he felt a slight pang in his chest. When he stares at her like this, hair out all wild and curly, eyes full of suggestion and laughter, he suddenly wishes he was the one who’d given her those friction burns and not some other guy.

But they were partners and even if they flirted and bantered, there would be none of that between them. It couldn’t, shouldn’t. No matter how much he wanted it.

“Details?” he then asked, curious. He was so damn curious. He could see from across the room the way her eyes turned teasing. Another laugh slipped from her lips.

“Not a chance” she said winking at him. He laughed this time because he could have seen that coming. He knew she’d leave him hanging, because she always liked to tease him and leave his thoughts in wonder. He’s damn certain she does that on purpose. The look on her face right now told him that yes, absolutely on purpose.

She walked back into the kitchen then and left him with those thoughts in her lounge. There was something about Ziva David that he couldn’t put his finger on. She excites him, makes him think many naughty things about her. But there’s also this feeling in him she causes, comfort. They banter yes, they flirt yes, they bicker. But somehow, he’s so relaxed around her.

That feeling is what brings him to sit down at her piano. His runs his fingers along the lid before lifting it, exposing the white and black keys. He places his wine on the floor, because he’s certain if he placed it on the piano lid it would be certain death by her hands.

He touches the keys. Its been so long since he’s played that he might have forgotten. But he knows it will come back. His piano teacher had smacked his knuckles enough for him to never forget. His hands suddenly feel a ghost pain at the memory. She doesn’t have any play books but he doesn’t need one. He knows one piece off by heart. It was his mothers’ favourite.

It’s funny how he hasn’t done this in so many years but the foreign woman in the kitchen came into his life abruptly and now he’s playing on the keys to her piano because she brings out the old Tony. The one who held his mothers’ heart and had a soul for music. He misses that part of him sometimes, but he’d tucked it so far away never thinking it would come back out again.

But something about Ziva, that part that relaxes him, it changes him.

The music is soft and he realises that other than his tutor, his mother and father, no one had heard him play before. He feels her presence in the lounge again, but this time the energy was different. Because even though she mentioned it in the container, he didn’t think he would play again. But here he was. He wasn’t sure if he was playing for her or himself. Maybe it was just the fact she didn’t have a television and he needed to fill that silence.

He’s not sure how long he plays but her presence doesn’t leave and when his fingers still on the keys at the end of the piece, the room is quiet.

“That was beautiful” her voice is soft and he turns slightly, looking at her over his shoulder. She’s standing in the doorway of the kitchen again, but she’s not alluring him this time. Her eyes are soft and the smile on her face is peaceful. She’s holding the glass of wine to her chest, above her heart. She almost looks _touched_.

“My mother’s favourite piece” he said, his voice quiet as he discussed his mother. He never talked about his mother. Not with his father, not with any of his serious girlfriends in the past. He didn’t know what it was about Ziva, but something about her made things easy. Like she wasn’t going to judge him about his past. She’d talked about her dead sister on the first night they had met after all. Maybe she felt this ease with him too.

“Clair de Lune” she says, with the sense of affection and familiarity. She knows it. He watches her walk over to where he sat at the piano. Her eyes were light and her smile was soft. This was new, this gentleness between them. She sipped her wine and placed one of her hands softly at his shoulder. Her thumb soothing across the shirt on his skin, the sensation made him want to close his eyes and lean into the touch but he didn’t dare.

They were partners.

“Do you know Moonlight Sonata?” she asked. He was melting at her touch and her softness. She wasn’t barging in and asking questions about his mother, she was letting him control that topic of conversation. He thanked her silently for that. This was nice. _Strange_. He never thought it would feel like this with her, it always felt like they would stay in that realm of sexual tension. But this was different. He didn’t know how to take these feelings.

“Ah Beethoven fan huh?” he whispered, so he knew Ziva’s favourite now too. She just smiled at him and that damn thumb of hers caressed his shoulder some more. He found himself turning back to the instrument and drifting his hands across the keys, bringing the piano to life once more and filling her apartment with soft music.

As he played, she stood there at his side and when he took a quick glance at her his heart was tight. Her eyes were closed and a smile was on her lips. He’s never seen the Mossad officer this relaxed; she always had her guard up. But right now, she exposed every little piece of herself to him. This was a new kind of Ziva and he most definitely liked it.

“She loved this piece too” he found himself saying as he played the keys. Again, talking about his mother. It gave him a weird sense of relief talking about her, even if it was only a little. In his 28 years since his mother passed, he’s never let any of that weight off his shoulders.

Ziva’s hand at his shoulder squeezes him softly, telling him that she gets it. She must feel how personal this is to him but again she’s not digging at him for more. She just lets him play the music and she basks in the beauty of it.

He likes this. Being alone with her in this environment. It was so different from what they are like at work and Ziva was absolutely more open in her own space. He was surprised she was letting him in like she is, but he’s more surprised about how much he’s letting her in.

As the smell of homemade Italian food fills the room and his fingers fill the silence with Beethoven, he can’t help but feel a new door has opened between them while they share this moment.

Friendship.


End file.
